Holy Mother Clare

Today is the feast day of one of my favorite saints, St. Clare. As a child, I enjoyed reading about how she spurned a life of luxury and riches to follow St. Francis into a life of joyous poverty. Up until I graduated from college, I harbored a secret desire to live the life of a Poor Clare. Obviously, that didn't happen, but I thought about it often and found myself infatuated with the liftestyle of women who would rise at midnight and again at 4am to chant the Divine Office to Our Lord.

St. Clare eschewed even the most basic physical comforts. Not only did she go without shoes, she slept on a hard floor every night. She was the first to rise each morning to light the candles and ring the choir bell. She didn't eat meat and fasted for long periods of time. At one time she was ordered by her spiritual director to sleep in a bed and eat at least some bread every day, which she was bound by her vows to obey. St. Clare is often depicted holding a Monstrance. Said one historian, "Clare herself was a Monstrance, living her life in complete devotion to Jesus in the Eucharist."

Gaze upon Christ
Consider Christ
Contemplate Christ as you desire to
Imitate Christ - St. Clare of Assisi

Series on Mother Teresa Pt. 4

Mother was a dimunitive figure, but only in terms of appearance. She dared go where few others would and had no fear about saying what needed to be said, an example being her speech upon receiving the Nobel Peace Prize.

Here is an amusing excerpt about the time she tried to catch a taxi to one of her foundations in the South Bronx:

"We have a contemplative house in the South Bronx. A taxi driver refused to take me there. The Sisters did not know I was coming, so I had to take a taxi - but he refused to go there. I said, 'But we are living there. Our young sisters are living there.' He said no. 'All right, I will sit near you and you will see that nothing will happen to either you or me.' So I got in the taxi and we went. His mouth when he saw the young Sisters jumping and laughing and the people bowing, those who recognized me speaking to me (they were drunk), taking off their hats and so on. He couldn't get over it, seeing that presence. This is something very beautiful."

The Work of the Creator in the Andes of Peru

God, in His goodness, brought my oldest back safely from her trek across the Andes in Peru. Here are some photos she took in Machu Picchu. You can see the hand of God everywhere.

Series on Mother Teresa Pt. 3

I seem to have misplaced my book on the way back from the shore, so today's reflection from Mother will be brief but familiar to you.

"Unless we believe and see Jesus in the appearance of bread on the altar, we will not be able to see him in the distressing disguise of the poor."

Series on Mother Teresa pt. 2

Mother Teresa on the poor and the providence and tenderness of God.

"We cook for nine thousand people every day. One day one sister came and said 'Mother, we have nothing to eat, nothing to give the people.' I had no answer. By 9am that morning a truck full of bread came to our house. The government gives a slice of bread and milk to poor children. That day - no one in the city knew why - but suddenly all the schools were closed. And all the bread came to Mother Teresa. See, God closed the schools. He would not let our people go without food. And this was the first time, I think, in their lives that they had such good bread and so much. This way you can see the tenderness of God."

"One day in Calcutta a man came with a prescription and said, 'My only child is dying and this medicine can be brought only from outside of India.' Just at that time, while we were still talking, a man came with a basket of medicine. Right on top of that basket, there was this medicine. If it had been inside, I would not have seen it. If he had come before, or if he had come afterward, I would not have seen it. But just at that time, out of the millions of children in the world, God in His tenderness was concerned with this little child of the slums of Calcutta to send, just at that time, that amount of medicine to save that child. I praise the tenderness and the love of God, because every little one, in a poor family or in a rich family, is a child of God, created by the Creator of all things."

Series on Mother Teresa

About a year ago, I picked up a great book at St. Rita's gift shop called "Jesus, The Word to be Spoken." It is a compilation of prayers and meditations from Mother Teresa's writings and talks to her third order Missionaries of Charity. The next several posts that I get around to will be excerpts from this book in Mother's own words on the poor, the sacrament of confession, Jesus in the Eucharist and respect for life.

"We are the servants of the poor. We give free whole-hearted service to the poor. In the world, people are paid for their work. We are paid by God. We are bound by a vow to love and serve the poor, and to live as poor with the poor."

"Do we treat the poor as our dustbins to give whatever we cannot use or eat? I cannot eat this food, so I will give it to the poor. I cannot use this thing or that piece of cloth, so I will give it to the poor. Am I then sharing the poverty of the poor? Do I identify with the poor I serve? Am I one of them? Do I share with them as Jesus shares with me?"

"One evening a gentleman came to our house and told me 'There is a Hindu family with eight children and they have not eaten for a long time. Do something for them.' I took some rice and I went straightaway. I could see in the children's faces terrible hunger. And yet when the mother took the rice, she divided it into two portions, and went out. When she came back I said 'Where did you go? What did you do?' She gave me one answer only:'They are hungry too.' She had next-door neighbors, a Muslim family, and she knew that they were hungry. I did not bring any more rice for that day because I wanted them to experience the joy of giving. I was not surprised that she gave, but I was surprised that she knew that they were hungry. Do we know? Do we have time to know? Do we have time to even smile at anybody"?

Milestone Birthday

Today is the Boy's birthday. Matt is 16. I have the grey hairs to prove it. Life has been an adventure with this boy, that is for sure. He does things his way and on his watch. He doesn't have the same concept of time the rest of us do, nor does he have an inner monitor. What pops into his head comes out of his mouth. Sometimes it comes in handy, like when someone's cell phone goes off in church and he turns around and lets them have it. Because of his disability, he can get away with it. He still gets the obligatory elbow in the side, because despite the fact that he's missing a filter, I still have the responsibility to teach him right from wrong. But like I said, there are definitely times when we appreciate his brutal honesty.

When Matthew was 3, his pre-school teacher told me to have his hearing tested because despite how many times she called him, he never answered her. Took him to the pediatrician and his hearing tested just fine. When he got to kindergarten, he couldn't stop talking about Thomas the Tank Engine. At first, the other kids enjoyed it. But as they progressed to other things, it got tiresome, and they let him know it. When it was no longer Thomas, it was Godzilla, and then it was Star Wars and then War of the Worlds. Increasingly, he grew more isolated from his classmates, captured by thoughts of his own mind.

One of the most painfully excruciating moments of my life came at the end of a school day when he sobbed into my shoulder that no one ever invited him to birthday parties. "It's because I'm so stupid," he sobbed. I did my best to keep my own composure and asked him if someone in his class was having a birthday. He didn't answer me. I told him I never got invited to many parties either and though being left out is something that hurts our feelings, we can't let it get us down. I did my best to assure him that he was not stupid either.

We went for counseling to help his self esteem. Then we went for testing. The first psychiatrist I took him to told me he was schizophrenic. I cried all the way home from the appointment, but something told me he was wrong. The pediatrician called me in the middle of a beautiful Saturday afternoon. She, too, had been given the same report and she didn't want me to worry. She didn't agree with the doctor at all. "Give me a week to find someone else for you."

Dr. W was a bit scatter-brained and disorganized, but what she was was right on target with her diagnosis and prescription for help. Pervasive developmental delay. Matt was on the autistic scale of disorders. He had severe OCD, which prevented him from being able to learn anything. We got him into a school with a special autistic support program and watched our isolated, depressed child become transformed into a decent student with some confidence and self esteem. He quickly became the darling of all the teachers, custodians and administrators and when he graduated, they gave him a special award created just for him. "When no one else would talk to me", one of the teachers explained at commencement, "Matt always would, and he listened, too."
Again, I cried.

When he started high school, we worried constantly because we couldn't get him into the school of our choice and he wasn't profoundly disabled, so we couldn't even get him into a private school that would have meant mortgaging ourselves to the hilt. Matt couldn't understand why he couldn't go where he wanted. Counseling helped with the rejection but what helped most of all were the tons of friends he started making. Some of them, like him, are the kind of kids that society treats as rejects. I often wondered why God would give an impatient person like me such a child, but I now know why. Because Matt has taught me to have patience and understanding, not only with him but with the kids he brings home, many of whom do not have two loving parents or the benefit of professional help and counseling. Matthew has also taught me to make the most of mortification and let go of pride.

Anyway, today was his day, so we let him pick where he wanted to go to dinner. He also decided to get his own cake, picking out a Star Wars theme in chocolate, complete with Darth Vader armed with light saber. Matt was pretty excited when he got home from Mass because he'd been asked to help with the collection. "What do you think", I asked him "maybe it's time to lend your help as an altar server."

He beamed from ear to ear. "Maybe" was all he said.

Vanity of Vanities, All is Vanity

From the Book of Ecclesiastes come these often-pondered words. What do they mean to me? When we worry about the things of this world to the point where we are distracted and restless, are we putting our faith in God? Something really stupid happened to me this week that caused me to lose my temper and be momentarily driven to distraction. My ticket to Heaven, otherwise known as my spouse, informed me nonchalantly that he had lost the keys to my car. Not recently, mind you, but some weeks ago, and he was just getting around now to letting me know. I lost my temper and shrieked at him in exasperation. It was the voice of a child that called me back to reality. "Don't sweat it, mom," my youngest told me "just say a prayer to St. Anthony to find them."

The keys turned up yesterday, but not before I fretted and fussed over what would happen if we couldn't find them, since they're the only spare set and we're leaving for the shore in a few days. Would it have been the end of the world not to find them? No, but you wouldn't know that by the way I reacted. Life is full of practicalities, and God knows this, but how silly did I appear in His eyes getting hysterical over car keys?

There is a Franciscan brother I know who has decided that the only possessions he will have in this world are the clothes he wears every day. He lives a much happier life than those of us who run ourselves into exhaustion trying to acquire the things this world tells us we need. Every night when I take my walk, I pass by two gentlemen who sit on the front steps, enjoying nothing more than each other's company and occasionally, a soda or pint of ice cream from the nearby corner store. Both are very religious men, one of whom is the sexton at a church where he begins every day unlocking the doors and lighting the candles on the altar and ends it by watering the flowers and sweeping the sidewalk. Simplicity of simplicities! A life dedicated to the service of Our Lord and free of the worries that are attached to the things of this world.

The path to holiness means not only giving up attachment to the meaningless possessions of the world, but also the attachment to selves that causes us to do things like shriek over a lost set of car keys. Lord Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary, have mercy on me, a sinner!

St. Martha

Just had to share this comment with you, which was made by the priest who said Mass this morning. "I'm a lazy man stuck in a busy man's job." It's hard to imagine this priest could afford a single moment of sloth given the expanse of the parish over which he presides. His point is that most of us would prefer to enjoy the gifts given to us by God rather than work ourselves to the bone. "We don't live to work, we work to live."

Although St. Martha is oft-remembered for whining to Our Lord about doing the work all by herself, she has another, more important place in the Gospel when Jesus is about to raise her brother Lazarus from the dead. “If you had been here, my brother would not have died, but I know that, even now, whatever you ask of God, he will grant you….I know he will rise again at the resurrection on the last day….Yes, Lord…I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.”

He is still in the world with us, and may we never become so preoccupied with our occupations that we neglect Him, even for a single moment.

Summer

Here is a photo Rebecca took of our share from Bud's farm this week. There was also a sugarbaby watermelon that we forgot to include in the picture. The corn was so sweet I ate a few raw kernels before I dropped the ears into the water.

A gift of grape tomatoes for the neigbhor brings the offer of figs over the garden gate. We swap herbs from each other's gardens. Sage and mint in exchange for a sprig of dill and a handful of basil. And then we go about our way.

I truly love all four seasons, but summer is simply unmatched for the gifts God grants us at this time of year. As the light gives way to darkness, the western sky is nearly breathtaking. The first stars of night shimmer like diamonds against the black and blue backdrop of a summer night. And I think of the words from Habukak. The Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth keep silence before Him.

Falling

"There's a good reason", my friend explained, "why I keep the 9th Station of the Cross where I can see it when I wake up every morning."

Just when you think you are coasting along on the road to Heaven, something is bound to flatten your tire and test the shock absorbers. Last night, my son broke a rule I have established that he is never to call me to ask if he can bring someone home for dinner while in the company of the person. If he wants to ask, he has to ask me privately. Needless to say, I was less than overjoyed when he called last night about two minutes before he was due home to ask if a friend could spend the night. I have met the friend in question. He appears to be a sweet and gentle person, but our house isn't set up for overnight guests and I didn't want a stranger in the bedroom adjacent to my young daughter. I said no. My son kept insisting, and I firmly told him no and to come home. This morning, I found out why he was so insistent.

"You know mom, his family is very poor. The don't have any power right now and they're living with a friend of theirs and "H" just isn't happy there." I started thinking about being in a home with no fan and no air conditioning in this type of heat. Would I not want someone to extend kindness to my son if he was in a similar situation? We probably could have worked out something. Of course, it would have been nice to get a little more notice so we could have thought this out, but again, I feel like a child in need came to me through my developmentally slow son, and I let that child down.

I have noticed that "H" is spending more and more time at our house. Sometimes I ask him to stay for dinner but not always. I often don't even know what we're eating until about 5 minutes before it's on the table, and it's not always something "H" finds palatable. Our house isn't posh by any means, but it's probably a palace in comparison to where this boy has lived. For awhile, he was staying with relatives, but they moved out of state, and he had to move back with his single mother. Then they had to move out of their apartment and in with a friend of hers. Only God knows the rest of the story. But God knows what He expects of me. What must "H" think when he comes to our home, sees all the statues of the saints, the crucifix, etc. and then hears that he's not welcome to spend the night out of the sweltering heat?

Just as with the homeless lady at the gas station a few weeks ago, God may be generous enough to give me an opportunity to assuage my guilt. I knew I would be in for some heartache in life because of my son's disabilities. What I didn't expect is how much of it would come not from him, but from the company he keeps. Whatsoever you do to the least of these little ones......

The Call

It's there, in the oxidized copper of a steeple; in the distant gong of a bell; in the flicker of a votive light caught in a glimpse of a darkened church through a stained glass window. It's a longing and an ache, but it is not unrequited love. It's not an it, but a Person, waiting in the guise of bread, St. Therese's Divine Prisoner of Love. Jesus in the Eucharist calls out from His gilded prison in search of our company. The church is locked, so what to do? A simple nod from the sidewalk toward the direction of the tabernacle and an ejaculaion of "Lord Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary, have mercy on me, a sinner." And then continue home.

Some Carmelite Eye Candy from Haifa, Israel

Choosing the Better Part

An exasperated Martha, left to do the serving all by herself, admonishes our Lord to make Mary, who is listening to His words of wisdom, help her. "Mary has chosen the better part, and it shall not be taken from her."

How many times do we stress ourselves out running from one activity to another, racing to complete one task after another that, very likely, will have no bearing on our eternal salvation? It's a good thing to keep a clean home and keep our children active and involved. But we're not doing ourselves or our families any favor by giving priority to activities of daily living while neglecting activities that will ensure eternal life.

When children are very young, psychologists tell us that their play is their work and is an important part of their development. By the same token, prayer and contemplation is our work, and without it, we fail to develop spiritually. We can become stagnant, doing the bare minimum and treating the Lord as though He is just another chore that we'll get to when we can. Where is prayer in your life, and more importantly, what is prayer?

Last night, Father Gleason reminded us that LISTENING to God is as important as TALKING to Him. It's a noble thing to say we will offer our work and all our activities to God as a prayer offering, but it's not so good when we choose to put Him last, especially when we have the ability to put Him first.

Where is God in your life? Is the focal point of your day, or an afterthought? Every so often I'll see a somewhat hokey little saying on a Protestant church marquis, but here's one I saw that really does ring true. "Give God what's best, not what's left." Resolve to do something every day, without fail, that enables you some quality time talking to Him and listening to Him.

I am astounded at how many Catholics still do not pray the Rosary every day. I am amazed at how many do not take advantage of the incomparable privilege of receiving Jesus in Holy Communion more often than once a week. If you're only giving God what's left, take some stock of where you are and how you can get where you should be. Give Him what's best, not what's left.

Our Lady of Mt. Carmel

Flower of Carmel,
Tall vine blossom laden;
Splendor of heaven,
Childbearing yet maiden.
None equals thee.

Mother so tender,
Who no man didst know,
On Carmel's children
Thy favors bestow.
Star of the Sea.

Strong stem of Jesse,
Who bore one bright flower,
Be ever near us
And guard us each hour,
who serve thee here.

Purest of lilies,
That flowers among thorns,
Bring help to the true heart
That in weakness turns
and trusts in thee.

Strongest of armor,
We trust in thy might:
Under thy mantle,
Hard press'd in the fight,
we call to thee.

Our way uncertain,
Surrounded by foes,
Unfailing counsel
You give to those
who turn to thee.

0 gentle Mother
Who in Carmel reigns,
Share with your servants
That gladness you gained
and now enjoy.

Hail, Gate of Heaven,
With glory now crowned,
Bring us to safety
Where thy Son is found,
true joy to see.

Flos Carmeli
Translator unknown

Kitchen Sister

Today I picked up my share of veggies from the CSA I recently joined. I decided that nothing would give me the impetus to cook and eat healthy food like paying for it up front, so I bought a half-share of vegetables from a farmer who grows certified organic produce, including herbs. Every other week I head over to the host site a few blocks away to pick up my bounty. This week's share included heirloom tomatoes, candy onions, carrots, beets, potatoes, green beans, squash, and cucumbers.

CSA, or community supported agriculture, enables urban dwellers to partner with farmers who have made the commitment to grow organic vegetables. This enables families to enjoy fresh, nutritious produce that's grown locally on family farms and it guarantees the farmer a dedicated group of customers. When the crop is better than expected, so is your share. When it's disappointing, you share the farmer's luck. It all comes out in the wash.

I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Farmer Bud yet, but he communicates by email every Saturday night by letting us know what we'll be getting. He often includes recipes, particularly for the more unusual items like garlic scapes. When I arrive home with my bounty, my husband and I look in awe. I have never seen such pristine vegetables, even when my own parents did a little bit of organic gardening at their home in the Poconos. I feel horrible about wasting anything, but the beauty of the CSA is that your vegetables are picked the day before you get them, not days or even weeks before. So everything keeps very well for a week or even two in the refrigerator. The vegetables are so beautiful that I couldn't bear to discard of even the peelings and roots, etc. so I invested in a small composter.

Roasting in the oven right now is a casserole I made with Bud's potatoes, carrots, onions and beets. You peel and slice the carrots and beets, wash and quarter the potatoes, and add thick slices of onions. I also added a few cloves of garlic that I got from Bud last time around. You sprinkle some salt on the vegetables, coat with a little olive oil, and bake at 375 for an hour. The beets and carrots impart a sweet flavor to the potatoes and the result is a delicious dish that my family has come to really enjoy. Now if I served carrots or beets individually, it would be a different story with a few turned up noses!

I can think of no profession that allows man to see God's generosity and the wonder of creation more than farming. And I've never met a farmer who didn't believe in God.

The not-so-good Samaritan

Nowhere in today's Gospel is the Samaritan described as good. This is something implied by his actions. I had my own opportunity to be a good neighbor on Monday, and I blew it.

My husband insists on buying his gas at a station that is in a not-so-nice area. We are often swarmed by people begging to pump gas for some change or who are simply asking for a handout.

Sure enough, I heard a high-pitched voice ask him for something and his response of "sorry Man." However, the man was actually a woman, and a decrepit one at that.
"I'm hunnnnnnngry," I heard her whine. When I looked at her, she was filthy and she appeared to be missing an eye. She was dressed way too warm for the 95 degree heat.
My husband finished fueling and got in the car. I asked him if he thought we should give her something but he pointed out two other groups of people who were begging and he thought it was better to just leave. However, that image haunted me all day and night. The next morning, I took a walk to the gas station, but the woman was nowhere in sight. I prayed she wasn't dead because I would be doubly eaten with guilt.

The day after, I was taking a walk in the area of the gas station when I heard that same high-pitched voice. "Sweeeeetheart, you have a little something for me? I'm hunnnnngry".

Thank you Jesus! Another opportunity to make up for the one I missed. OK, for all I know, she did go out and spend the few bucks I gave her on booze or drugs, but like the woman I wanted to judge because of her skimpy clothing, it's not my place to make those kind of assumptions. The next time I might not be so lucky to have a second chance to offer someone a little bit of relief on a scorching summer's day.

Prayer and Penance

The following is recounted from "Thoughts and Sayings of St. Therese" from Tan Books. (Many of the conversations were recounted by her novices).


One day a novice lingered on the pathway en route to prayer to when St. Therese overtook her. "Is this how a mother with children (souls) to support hastens to work?"

************************************

I was reminded of this today at Mass. The air conditioning, which we are most fortunate to have in the first place, seemed to have concentrated all its efforts elsewhere in the church as it was nearly suffocating where I sat. I'm ashamed to admit I couldn't wait until Mass was over. At one point, the mantilla was driving me crazy and I was convinced if I took it off, I'd feel better, but I didn't. If I couldn't even stand a little discomfort and found it so difficult to unite myself to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, how on earth could I ever think I have anything in common with the Saints, who at the height of their tortures, never lost sight of Christ crucified?

At Fatima, Our Lady beckoned that we should make many sacrifices and endure penance for the salvation of souls, including our own! Forgive me Lord, for not making the most of the opportunity You gave me today. The discomfort of the Church on a hot summer's day has nothing to compare to the torments of hell.

Plenty of excuses, but no good reasons

A recent conversation with someone who doesn't practice their faith but will go to Holy Communion knowing they are not in a state of grace if they're at a wedding or funeral....

"I would only go to Communion if I were at a church were no one knows me because I think you are only making things worse with the hypocrisy."

"Let me get this straight: you'd receive Communion even though you haven't gone to confession so long as people don't know you're not in a state of grace?"

"Yes"

"Let me ask you this: would you ever take the Host and throw it in the gutter?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, that's what you do every time you receive Holy Communion in a state of mortal sin."

"Oh"

Get to confession. If you haven't been there in ages, ASK ME and I will refer you to a priest who will be happy to hear your confession and where you will not be yelled at, screamed at or thrown out of the confessional. By the same token, where do we get the notion that we're too good for a little chastisement? Our society thrives on hearing what it wants to hear, not what it needs to hear, and this is so true for many people who avoid confession but have no problem marching up to the altar to receive Jesus with clean hands and a filthy soul. C'mon people! At the heart of the reason why so many people have neglected their duties as Catholics is laziness and an over-developed self esteem. When people don't get it that they are not more important than their Creator, and the result is empty churches and more time spent in idolatry of false gods. Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also! (St. Matthew, chapter 6)

Thirsting for Souls

A common theme explored by both St. Therese of Lisieux and Blessed Mother Teresa is that of Jesus suffering thirst. When He cried out "I thirst!" from His agony on the cross, human nature prompts us to associate His plea with the need for a drink (especially in this heat!). The Saints, however, knew that He thirsted for the souls of all generations and that a good deal of His suffering on that first Good Friday was the knowledge of how few would respond to His call.

What am I doing to cool His thirst?

Do I cause people to look at me and say "if that's what being a Catholic is all about, forget it!"? Or do I project enough joy that I make people at least curious about what it is I've found that has caused such a conversion in me?

Do I denigrate people who disagree with me, or do I respectfully point out the error of their thinking with love?

A story has been recounted about Mother Teresa lifting a man from the gutter in Calcutta. He spat in her face. Without losing her composure and without missing a beat, she said "OK, that was for me. Now what do you have for Jesus"? The man is reported to have converted on the spot. We never know what profound impact a simple word or gesture will have on someone else. "We must not let slip even one opportunity to sacrifice for Jesus!" cried St. Therese. "Pick up a pin from a motive of love, and you may save a soul."

Can any of us ignore the plea of a human being crying out in hunger or thirst? Then we must do no less for Jesus. If it means setting aside anger, jealousy, resentment, humiliation, all the better.

One final thought.....as I felt a twinge of "oh,no" recently when a long-winded priest who was to celebrate Mass at a certain church came out of the sacristy, I thought: "Maybe someday you'll have NO priest to offer Mass and you'll rejoice at the sight of Father X". And I thought of the rich man begging for Father Abraham to allow Lazarus to dip his finger in cool water to cool his tongue. As much as Jesus thirsts for us, I should thirst for Him and take advantage of every opportunity to get to Mass and spend time with Him in Adoration. And never again should I even THINK about groaning inside about who shows up to celebrate Mass!